


Bumpy road to Love [one shot]

by Ain_t_bovvered



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 40s, 50s, AU, Drabbles, F/M, One Shot, Post WWII, Post War, Singer Reader, Speakeasies, Veteran Dean Winchester, World War II, singer - Freeform, veteran, vintage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ain_t_bovvered/pseuds/Ain_t_bovvered
Summary: Genre: 40s-50s Au one-shot MAYBE start of a series, y’all have to tell me what do you think. Speakeasy singer Reader x veteran WWII DeanWarnings: some angst, some fluff , smokingsong mentioned:They Can’t Take That Away From Me- Ella Fitzgerald & Louis ArmstrongSummary: Many lives were ruined by the war, yours was not exception. You had money, before, stern but loving parents,a big house,and a secret love, all of that lost, burned down.  Now you earn yourself just enough money to get by, using the only thing the war couldn’t take, your voice. One foggy night, in the smoky and dark speakeasy where you worked, your imagination plays tricks on you and behind the smoke and whiskey glass , a pair of green eyes seem to read into your soul. A pair of green eyes that you thought you’ll never see again.





	Bumpy road to Love [one shot]

“10 minutes, doll! “ my boss called , knocking at my changing room.

“Yes Benny, I know, almost ready “. Looking back into the light up mirror, I raise my almost done cigarette and inhale deeply closing my eyes, letting the sharps fumes fill my lungs. I exhale slowly, gently letting the smoke slip out my bright red lips. I look at my reflection again while I press the rest of the cigarette into the empty ashtray beside my propped up elbow.

I sigh deeply as I pick up the dark brown eyeliner to apply my trademark beauty marks, men go crazy for these now, as my tips. Giving another layer of lipstick, I shrug off my shoulder the silk robe and check my hair, not a single gush of wind could mess my curls, crisp, shiny and heavy with hairspray.

Walking in the dark backstage that I know by memory, I clear my throat and try a few notes. The cigarette’s smoke still burning in my chest gives my voice that warm hoarse tone that goes well with the theme for tonight’s arrangement.

Stopping before the close heavy red curtains, I push up my chest and pull down my dress a bit, a gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do for better tips. Slipping my hand in the slit of the fabric, I see the feeble light from the spotlight, creating a sword of silver on my satin, floor length, ivory dress.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the light and I have to fight to keep my eyes open, trying not to squint as the bright light hurts my sight. I smile just as brightly to where I know the tables are, I can’t see a damn thing , with a sneaky gesture of my hand I signal those in charge of the lights to change them to my set.

Finally able to see, but still blinded, I take a deep bow and another to my little orchestra, receiving some whistles and calls out as I bow with my back to the audience. Free show you pigs, better tip good tonight I need a new pair of gloves.

My colleague at the trumpet smirks knowingly and I wink at him, I turn around again and check to my left and right that everyone is in position, and with a nod from my head, my shift begin.

As I sing, my vision adjust to the dark and I can finally distinguish the customers, it’s a slow night , there are a few regulars and some of my favorites, the ones with an heavy wallet and slippery hands. Perfect, I think, maybe I can save to buy a new toaster too. With a nod to the thug, that Benny hired to keep the creepers away from me, I slowly leave the stage and walk between the tables. The only lights to guide me are the candle, flickering into their red holders, I barely make out the faces in that red hue but I know my chickens by how they squirm when my eyes linger on them. They can’t wait to put their hands on me as I graze their shoulders, hands and neck passing through them, I can almost see the amount I’ll be make floating on their heads.

The air is thick with smoke by the time I finish my usual round and I’m almost at the end of my 7th song when I make my return to the stage.

Swatting away the sneaky hand that ventured a little too low, I avoid the drunk costumer that lounge at me grabbing me by the waist and shot a glare to the bodyguard following me at a sensible distance. In the corner of my eyes I see him grabbing the drunk mess and escorting him ‘gently’ to the bar to sell another drink before tossing him outside. Benny always makes sure to never upset a costumer but, at the same time, keep me as safe and as comfortable as I could be.

No one here touch me without me allowing it.

Regaining my steps and the rest of the song I finally reach the first row of tables, I frown slightly. Those seats are usually empty, the creepers use the ones in the back and I don’t even want to imagine why, the front row is usually for couples on dates or people who actually enjoy the music.

This time there was a single table occupied, right in the middle of the row. I don’t recognize that silhouette, it’s someone new.

As I walk my way to the table I try to analyse it. Definitely a man, broad shoulders , sitting straight ….military style I dare say , so probably with a thin wallet. His coat is draped on the seat beside him, no lady . He’s still wearing his fedora, glancing on his table I can see that there was still no drink ,so he must have just arrived. I’m right beside him now and scrunched down slightly going along my usual charming theatre of doe eyes, pouting mouth and sensually slurring the words of the song. He didn’t look at me, his gaze was in front of him and away from the candle, his face hidden in the shadows.

As I let my hand casually brush against his arm I see his profile twitch , I call victory in my head , so I let my touch press and linger a bit more. His head turn to me now, but it still covered by the dark, he raise a hand, a cigar between his fingers.

Still singing, I reach between my breasts and took out a gold slim lighter, I see his hands stills as I flick it open and light it, illuminate his face.

I nearly bite my tongue.

He looks at me then, impossible clear green eyes trapping mine. My hand shakes, he grabs it , bring it closer to his face , using the flame to light his cigar. Taking a few breaths, the cigar burns and he let go of my hand, he never stopped looking into my eyes the whole time.

My legs are numb, my whole body is numb, the hand he touched…. burning.

I keep my cool and stagger slightly to the stage, my friend looks at me worried. It’s not often that I miss a few notes while singing , I look at him transfixed and finish the song.

The next song begins and I let the notes go, missing the cue , my eyes glued to that first row table.

How?

How could that be ?

No , I must have seen it wrong, it’s not possible.

With a little shove, I look at my left where my friend is keeping the music going in a loop form me , he silently ask if I’m okay.

I really don’t know. I think my past caught up on me, finally and now I’m seeing ghosts.

I nod weakly and start to sing on the next cue.

I sing passionless and flatly , all my energy and concentration is on that man. A waiter walks up to him ,settling down his drink, a single glass, a whiskey glass , the amber catching the red hue from the candle. He doesn’t drink yet, instead he picks up the glass and swirl the liquid , his eyes still boring holes into my soul.

I need to know.

Before the next song began, I turn around to the orchestra .

“ C-change of set boys “

“but mr.Boss …”

“Nevermind him, this is my domain you know it”

“What do you want us to play Y/N ?”

I give the title and the response I get are a couple of frowns.” You know that right?”

“Well, of course we do. But are you sure? It’s… at least decades old…”

“ Chuck…I’ve never asked for favours from you….do this for me, please “

“…” he eyed me for a moment and then smiled “ of course doll, anything for you“

I smiled back warmly, Chuck has been a god sent present for me during the firsts days after the war. He was my best friend and a brother to me, we live together , people talk but we don’t care, we are like family to each other , the only we have left anyway.

As the first piano’s notes playing, I breath sharply and square my shoulders, my head tilt up, so my chin is high and proud. My steps are steady as I walk to the microphone, my hands , instead are trembling , I clutch the cold silver mic stand.

I miss the cues again but the notes kept going, patiently waiting for me . I close my eyes and let the music calm my nerves. Do I dare to hope?…Better question… Does my heart can take another blow like this?

My body starts to sway with the music and I soon feel my head swarming with memories as I start to sing.

Our romance won’t end on a sorrowful note  
Though by tomorrow you’re gone  
The song has ended but as the songwriter wrote  
The melody lingers on.

Suddenly I hear birds chirping, and cicadas buzzing. The spotlight hit my eyes again and I found myself shielding my face from the warmth of the late May’s sun.

The smell of grass and hay hit my senses, I smack whatever is tickling my nose, scrunching it.

A hearty laugh catch my ears, and my heart dance.

“You look like a bunny”

Behind closed eyes I see a shadow obscuring the sunlight, I open an eye, only to groan when the head moves and the sun assault my eyesight again.

I grab the leather jacket, and tug at it to cover me from the light. Feeling safe, I open both my eyes and find myself reflected into the brightest sets of green eyes and sun kissed freckles.

“Better “ I said and stretch my arms , caressing the grass to my sides , where the blanket stops.

“oh…you are more than welcome , my Lady”

I grimace “Don’t call me that ! “

“Forgive me, my Lady”

“ fuck off “ I giggle as his hand cradle his fake offended face.

“That is not the way a Lady should talk ….“ he says, bending down to kiss the top of my nose and quickly rising up. I grab the lapels of his motor jacket and bring him down again, our lips inches apart.

“ you are a hood “ I whisper teasing.

“You love it, Doll “ he say before kissing me.

We lay in the field where we had a lazy picnic , his lips still taste like the cherry pie I baked this morning following the cook’s recipe. He said he loved it , he probably did , but I know it wasn’t fully cooked, I was so eager for it to be ready that I took it out the oven too soon.

When I’ll be able to cook him another one ?

He felt the sudden change in my body because he propped up on his elbow, looking down at me smiling.

“It’s not forever sweetheart “

Feeling a lump in my throat, and eyes hot, I move my head to the side , away from his sight . “I know …doesn’t make it any easier”

He sigh and moves my head to look at him . “ don’t worry, they’ve been fighting for years. It won’t be long. I’m sure I’ll be home without even touching a gun”

“you can’t said that! Y’all underestimate those damn Germans”

He laughed again “I love when you are with me and all that high class accent just ….disappear “

I pout at his attempt to change subject , but I subside nevertheless, my face relax and I smile back.

“That’s because you, Mr. Winchester, are a terrible influence”

He smirks again pleased, bending down to kiss under my pearl pierced ear, I gasp and slap his arm weakly.

“mmm Terrible , you say?” he hummed , sliding his lips down my neck.

“ Dreadful “ I breathe out, stretching my neck back, my white net gloves covered fingers pressing into the leather cladding his arm.

“ What would your old man say?” with two fingers he moves the fabric of my yellow pastel sun dress covering my clavicle.

“…that….that is t-time for me…for me to be sent to a nunnery” he was nibbling at my tender skin and I was already a mess.

His low chuckle didn’t help.

“or… he’ll set up a Joe Doe of high society to send me off an be a housewife” my turn to smirk as he still a moment , before feeling is smile on my skin as he left a trail of kisses , reaching my mouth again. But before I could kiss him back he put a finger on my lips.

“In that case the poor fella is cruisin’ for a bruisin’ “ I roll my eyes , but deeply inside me I know he would be capable of that.

“I prefer the nunnery,” I said, nibbling at the finger and earning a hiss from him.

“ You’d make an awful nun “

“I’m already on the right path to become one anyway” I lick the offended finger now and he snatch it away, groaning , bumping his forehead with mine, squeezing his eyes.

“Y/N….I told you…I want to do things right”

“yeah yeah…okay as you wish”

“I need to save enough and finish school so I’ll have something to offer you when I’ll ask your pops permission, and you have to finish boarding school too. The war is just another hiccup on our way.” He’s looking at me now “But…if you feel that you can’t wait …”

I grab his face between my hands

“ Dean Winchester, I’ll stop waiting for you when your love for pies dies”

His bright smile blinds me.

Grabbing my wrist, he guide my hands to his heart , beating fast under the white t-shirt, looking at me intensely his face grow serious.

“It’s just another bump in the road, Y/N. I’ll come back to you” he kiss my hands now, like his making a path and looks up at me.

“I always come back to you, I promise.”

“I know” I bring him down to me again, his head resting on my chest.

“…can you..?” he asks shyly.

I smile through tears he can’t see, birds and cicadas as my orchestra , our beating hearts the audience, and start to sing ….

They may take you from me  
I’ll miss your fond caress  
But though they take you from me  
I’ll still possess…

I blink as the spotlight moves from my face and I finally can see him again, he’s looking at me.

The way you wear your hat

I lock my eyes to him again, as he bring the glass to his lips

 

The way you sip your tea Whiskey

I see his smirk as he notice I changed the last word.

I close my eyes and swing with the music, caressing the microphone like I did his head, that last afternoon years ago, in another life.

The memory of all that  
No, no, they can’t take that away from me  
The way your smile just beams  
The way you sing off key

I re-open my eyes to watch him as I sing the next words.

The way you haunt my dreams  
No, no, they can’t take that away from me  
We may never never meet again  
on that bumpy road to love  
Still I’ll always, always keep the memory of  
The way you hold your knife  
The way we danced till three  
The way you changed my life

My singing now is slower, agonizing; the words are slurred and heavy

 

No, no, they can’t take that away from me  
they can’t take that away  
they can’t take that away  
They can’t take that away…….. from me

The last two words are dragged and low, my eyes never leaving his. I still have 2 more songs to perform, but nothing matters now, I shoot Chuck an apologetic look, bow to the costumers and run behind the curtains, straight to my dressing room. Grabbing the pack of cigarettes, I stumble out the back door.

It’s raining, heavily, and my hair are drenched after just few moments. I seek shelter under the balcony of the floor above, right behind the alley. At least no one can see me here while I take this not scheduled break. But damn…I need it.

With dread, I realize that I’ve ran out without my coat and my lighter, that fell from my hand before.

With the cigarette between my lips, I let out a frustrated sob, leaning against the cold brick wall behind me. I can feel drops of water on my face and neck and running down my back.

The flicker of a lighter starts me and I open my eyes.

In front of me, there’s Dean.

A ghost.

I silently reach with my head to the flame, lighting up the cigarette that trembles between my lips.

I took a few nervous puffs, without even inhaling, the coldness of the night and rain seeping into my bones, chilling my naked skin. A warm wool grey overcoat surrounded me, shielding me from the cold. I let out a shaky breath as his smell invaded my senses completely, there was something new , but it was his….it was him, unmistakably.

My eyes lift up slowly, taking in his attire. He was wearing an elegant, expensive three piece grey suit, your eye was trained for that. Brown polished shoes, immaculate snow white shirt and striped blue tie. My eyes delayed to reach his face so he raised my chin with his fingers.

My heart stops.

The same green eyes staring back at me, his face has aged , but his eyes reflected mine the same way they did 7 years ago.

He cradle my head in both his hands and leaned his forehead to mine, his breath ghosted on my lips, whiskey .

“I promised you, I’ll always come back” he said, his voice breaking.

“And I’ll always wait for you”

“What are you doing in a place like this?” he whispered, his eyes closing as his head dipped, stopping inches from kissing me. The sound of the rain locked us into a bubble, creating this special space, only for us, all the other sounds muffled. The cars honking and speeding in the street behind, the music coming from the club, people arguing, and babies crying, none of that reached us.

“…you were right” I whispered back, tilting my head at the right, never forgotten, angle.

“About what?” his thumb flicked away a tear running down my cheek

“…I make an awful nun “


End file.
